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THE FIRE-FIGHTING ZOUAVES
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dow, peering out. Beyond the Confederate picket-line, a brigade of bine uniforms patched the field. Below, the camp swarmed into activity, the soldiers tossing aside haversacks and blankets, and buckling on their cartridge-belts as they fell into position. "Left into line — wheel — march!" The commands bit the air sharply, like bullets. As if by magic, the
tidy dabs across the love-pop and sweet-Bietsy of the garden, daubing the flowers with red — grunting horribly. She felt strangely calm, impersonal. Even the sight of Lieutenant Hayes, with powder-blackened hair, desperately spurring his horse thru the press, the Union flag flapping from a splintered staff in his hands, did not excite her. Her
BEN LEADS THE ZOUAVES IN A VICIOUS ATTACK
tangled column smoothed into order. 'Roxana caught her breath. A low sound beat the air like wings, as a shell flew over the house, leaving a gray track. The blue line was advancing. Puff! crack! Wicked red splashes on the grass ; the line reeled. Unmindful of her own danger, the girl peered desperately out thru the sulphurous smoke that grimed the tepid air. She had never seen a man killed before, and now they were squirming down in messy, un
father's hoarse, querulous ejaculations went unheeded.
Whizz ! whirr ! The floor rocked. A cloud of scarlet flame rolled across the window, searing the sight.
"My God! the house is on fire," moaned her father. He began to pace the floor, broken words falling feebly from his lips. ' ' I knew how it would be — horrible situation — Hayes is captared, too — we are done for "
"Hush, father!" Roxana '& eyes, leaping the flame, had caught a